OHIO STATEWIDE FILES - HISTORY: Chapter 25 (Abbott, John S. C., 1875)
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				Chapter XXV.
			The Capture of the Boat.

   In the month of February, 1790, Mr. John May, a gentleman from Virginia, 
who was employed in surveying lands in Kentucky, accompanied by Charles
Johnston, who was but twenty years of age, purchased a boat, such as was then
used for the navigation of the western waters, to descend the Kanawha River
and the Ohio, to Lexington. At Kelly's Station they took on board Mr. Jacob
Styles with a stock of dry goods. Arriving at Point Pleasant, at the mouth
of the Kanawha, a man by the name of Flinn and two Misses Flemings joined
the party.
   Here they learned that both banks of the Ohio were infested by bands of
hostile Indians, who were using every strategem which Indian cunning could 
devise to decoy boats on shore, when they plundered the boat and murdered or
captured all on board. They resolved that they would keep in the middle of 
the channel, and that nothing should induce them to approach either bank.
They knew that the Indians, concealed in the forest, would follow descending
boats for miles - that by torture they would compel their white captives to
assist them in luring their victims to land.
   It was the season of spring floods, and the swollen river, filling its
banks to the full, rolled along in its channel almost like a mountain torrent.
Their speed was such that there was no need, save to keep themselves in the
middle of the stream.
   On the morning of the 20th of March, just as they had passed the point
where the Scioto River enters the Ohio, they were awoke a little before
daylight by Flinn, who was on the watch. Far down the river was to be seen
the alarming gleam of camp-fires. Those fires could have been kindled only
by the Indians. There was no hope of escaping their keen eyes. There might
be a hundred warriors there, thoroughly armed with rifles, and with war
canoes by which they could assail the boat from every quarter. The windings
of the river were such that it was impossible to tell on which side of the
stream the camp stood.
   They could not land without certain destruction. They could not anchor.
They could not force their way back against the current. All that remained 
to them was to float down to their fate, whatever that fate might be. As the
current bore them swiftly on, it ere long became manifest that the encampment
of the savages was on the Ohio shore. Soon two white men appeared upon the
bank, in apparently a frenzy of terror. In the most earnest and piteous tones
they entreated the voyagers to come to the bank and take them on board.
   "We were captured," they said, "a few days ago by the Indians, at Kennedy's
Bottom. Last night we escaped. The savages are in hot pursuit of us. Our 
death, by the most horrible torture, is certain unless you come to our rescue.
You have nothing to fear. There are no Indians near enough to fire upon you
before you have time to push out again into the middle of the stream. For
the love of God save us, and do not leave two of your unfortunate countrymen
to be tortured to death by the savages."
   The voyagers, in accordance with their resolution, steeled their hearts
against these imploring cries. The boat was swept along by the swollen current, 
at the rate of six or seven miles an hour. The two white men, perceiving the
obduracy of the boatmen, ran along the bank evidently anguish stricken, and
uttering the most lamentable entreaties to be saved. Human nature could not
long withstand such supplication. The kind-hearted girls entreated the captain
to go ashore. A council was held of the six on board the boat. Captain May, 
with Johnson and Skyles, declared that it was not safe to listen to their
cry; that the chances were that a party of savages was in the forest, compelling
the men, by threats of the most awful torture, to do their bidding; and that
the moment the bows of the boat touched the shore they would be fired upon
from ambush and all massacred.
   But Flinn and the two Miss Flemings pleaded for the fugitives. They urged
that there was every evidence that the men were sincere; that there were too
many circumstances corroborating their statement to render it reasonable to
suppose that their story was made up for the occasion; and that it would be 
an eternal disgrace to them all, should they allow two of their fellow
countrymen miserably to perish when they could so easily rescue them.
   Flinn heroically made a proposition which he said could be carried into
effect without endangering any one but himself. The boat now drifted nearly
a mile below the men who were still despairingly running along the shore. He
offered, if Captain May would only touch the shore with the bow of the boat, 
that he would leap on land before it would be possible for the Indians, even
it they were at hand, to arrest the boat. The captain should immediately push
from the shore and abandon him to his fate. If then he found that there was
no danger all could be taken on board.
   This plan was assented to. But the unwieldy and heavily-laden boat, when 
out of the current, was moved with difficulty. It took a much longer time
than was expected to reach the bank. The moment the bows grated upon the sand
Flinn leaped from the boat. At that moment six savages rushed upon him from
the dense wood. They seized him, and with their rifles opened upon the crew
a deadly fire. The panic was terrible. Two seized their rifles to return
the fire. One seized an oar to push out into the stream. But such a mass could
not easily be moved by one puny arm. The forest seemed to be alive with the 
savages, as with horrid yells they came rushing on. The boat became entangled
in the bows of the trees. The Indians, at the distance of scarcely ten paces,
were pouring in their fire.
   There were many horses on board. Some were struck by the bullets. All werw
terrified. They broke their halters and plunged madly to and fro. All on 
board threw themselves on their faces as some slight protection. The yells
of the Indians added to the terrors of the awful scene. The wary Indians, 
ever careful not to expose themselves, continued their fire. Soon all the
horses were killed. One of the girls, venturing to raise her head a little, 
was pierced through the brain by a bullet, and fell dead. Skyles was struck
by a bullet, which shattered his shoulder blade. May received a ball through
the forehead, and dropped lifeless.
   The lad Johnston and one of the Miss Flemmings alone remained unharmed, 
with the exception of Flinn, who was a captive on the shore. Twenty of the 
savages now boarded the boat, some swimming to it, and climbing over its
sides. Johnston, making a virtue of necessity, received them with apparent
kindness, and helped them in. They all seemed in high glee, and very good
natured. They shook him quite cordially by the hand, exclaiming in broken
English, "How de do?"
   Skyles was writhing in anguish under his painful wound. Miss Flemming was
sitting silent and pallid with horror by the side of her dead sister. The 
Indians greeted them both civilly. They then preceeded to scalping the dead, 
and the lifeless bodies werw thrown overboard. The scalps were stretched upon
hoops and hung up to dry. They then drew the boat ashore and very eagerly
examined their prize. The unhappy Skyles, tortured by his cruel wound, saw
his silks, cambrics and broadcloths seized by the barbarian spoilers, while
many of his most precious articles were trampled contemptuously in the mire.
At length they came upon a keg of whisky. A general shout of exultation 
greeted this discovery. Everything else was forgotten, and, in a tumult of
delight, they rushed ashore.
   They built and immense fire, and all gathered around it, dancing and singing.
Thus far, in the excitement and eagerness of examining their prize, they had
made no attempt to rob the captives of their clothing. Johnston was quite
richly dressed, for a boatman, having provided himself with a new suit just
before sailing. He had a warm broadcloth surrout, a thick red flannel vest, 
a ruffled shirt, and an excellent pair of boots.
   While they were gathered around the fire, a stout Shawnee chief, whose 
name he afterwards learned to be Chick-a-tom-mo, came up and eyed his finery
very closely. He then took hold of the skirt of the overcoat, and giving it
several very expressive jerks, indicated, by gestures not to be misunderstood, 
that he wished for it. Johnston drew it off and politely handed it to him.
The red flannel waist-coat was now exposed to view in all its shining glories.
   The chief examined it with great admiration, and regarding it as an emblem
of the wearer's martial rank, exclaimed: "Hugh! you big cappatain?" Johnston
replied, in language which the chief seemed to understand, that he was not
an officer, that he had nothing to do with military affairs. The chief, 
towering up as imposingly as he could, said: "Me cappatain; all dese," pointing
tot he other Indians, "my sogers." He then demanded the waistcoat. It was a
cold windy March day. Johnston gave it to him, and stood shivering in his
shirt and pantaloons.
   Just then an old Indian of hideous aspect, and filthy in the extreme, came
up and fixed an eagle upon Johnston's nice clean ruffled shirt, and striking
him upon the shoulder, said, in imperative tones: "Swap, swap!" There was 
nothing to be done but to obey. As he was drawing the shirt over his head, 
exposing his bare chest to the really wintry air, another Indian came up, a
young man of very stout proportions, and of unexpectedly humane spirit. The
young Indian, whose name was afterwards found to be Tom Lewis, indicating
that he had seen much of the whites, pulled the half-drawn shirt back again, 
and severely reproached the old Indian for robbing the captive of his shirt
in such cold winter.
   Soon after this, the kind young man, with an extraordinary look of pity
and compassion, threw his own blanket over the shivering shoulders of Johnston.
This act greatly cheered the poor prisoner, for it proved that, even among
the savages, there were those who had sympathies of kindness and generousity,
to which one might appeal not in vain.
   The two white men who had decoyed the boat ashore, now took seats by the
side of the captives and began to make excuses for their infamous conduct.
They said that the Indians had compelled them, by threats of instant death, 
to do as they had done. But these cheap words could by no means atone for so
atrocious a crime. They had both been captured by the Indians from Kentucky.
The name of one was Thomas, of the other, Divine. While they were talking, 
a negro, who was also a captive, came forward. He said that Thomas had been
very averse to having any share in the treachery, but that Divine, having had
a promist from the Indians that, in case of success, his own liberty should
be restored to him, had plannerd the project, and with great eagerness entered
into its execution. In some things the Indians had a high sense of honor; and
it was known that they would be faithful in keeping such a promise. This
charge against Divine was afterwards fully substantiated.
   As the whole band of Indians and white captives were gathered around the
bonfire, the Indians preparing for their carouse with the contents of the 
whisky keg, six Indian women came up, leading with them two white children, 
a girl and a boy. They had recently been taken from Kentucky. Skyles' wound
was agonizingly painful, and Flinn, who, in his adventurous life, had picked
up some knowledge of surgery, dressed the wound as well as he could. An 
Indian woman kindly washed the wound, and, catching the bloody water in a 
tin cup, insisted upon Skyles' drinking it, saying that it would accelerate
the cure.
   This Indian band, it soon was learned, was composed of detachments from
several tribes. There were Shawnees, Wyandots, Delawares, and Cherokees. The
booty captured was divided among them by an aged chief, and all seemed satisfied
with his decision. Flinn was given to a Shawnee warrior. Skyles to an old, 
wrinkled, crabbed Indian of the same tribe, who looked like a fiend incarnate.
Johnston was particularly fortunate. He was assigned to a young Shawnee chief, 
who developed very generous and noble traits of character. His countenance
was mild, open, and prepossessing. His figure was very fine, his movements 
graceful, and in native courtliness of bearing he would have graced almost
any society. Miss Flemming was surrendered to the Cherokees.
   These arrangements were very promptly made. Though the Indians were sure
that there could be no foe near them, and therefore they did not deem it 
necessary to post any sentinels, still, every man placed his gun directly 
behind him, the breech resting upon the ground and barrel resting between 
the forks of a small stake, driven into the ground, so that upon the slightest
alarm each man could easily seize his gun.
   After the distribution of their captives, Flinn and Johnstno with Thomas
and Divine, were ordered to prepare oars for the boat they had taken that
the Indians might man it with their warriors, and compel the white men to 
row it to the attack of other boats which might be descending the Ohio. They
manifested much sagacity in these preparations, which occupied the remainder
of the day.
   That night the Indians had a grand carouse. Their camp-fire threw its 
lurid gleams over the wide expanse of miles of forest and of river. Their
demoniac revelry, blending with the cry of the bear and the howl of the wolf
echoed through those vast solitudes, reminding one rather of the maddened
yell of fiends in the world of woe, than of the enjoyments of rational men, 
originally made in God's own image.
   The next morning the Indians, as soon as it was light, sent their scouts
up the river to watch for descending boats. Those who remained in the 
encampment painted their faces, dressed their scalp-tufts, and decorated 
themselves in the highest style of barbaric military art. Each warrior had a 
pocket mirror which had been obtained by previous traffic with the whites.
   About ten o'clock in the forenoon a canoe was seen close to the Kentucky
shore, containing six white men. They were ascending the river, laboriously
rowing against the current. All the prisoners were immediately ordered upon 
pain of death to descend to the water's edge, and make every effort to decoy
the canoe within reach of the Indian rifles. Divine entered upon the service
with alacrity, seeming to enjoy it, and was very ingenious in the stratagems
which he employed. He invented a very lamentable and plausible story of 
their descending the river in a boat, when it struck a snag and sunk, they
escaping only with their lives. He said that they had no guns to obtain
food, that they had not come across any Indians, and that they were actually 
starving.
   With agony Johnston beheld the canoe put off from the Kentucky shore to
cross the river. In vain he endeavored to make signs to them to go back. The 
Indians concealed themselves among the willows which grew very densely along
the river banks. As soon as the humane, unsuspecting men drew within gunshot,
the Indians selected their victims, and taking deliberate aim, fired. Some
fell into the river, and in thus falling overset the canoe, which floated
down the river with the bodies of the dead. When they fired, the canoe was 
within one hundred feet of the shore. The Indians, eager for scalps, plunged 
into the water, and seizing the dead bodies, obtained the scalps of all.
   While thus employed their scouts announced another and a far more splendid
prize in view. Three large, flat-bottomed boats were in sight, heavily laden
with horses and dry goods. They were bound for Lexington, Kentucky. It was 
then nearly twelve o'clock and the little flotilla was about a mile above
the point where the Indians stood concealed in the woods. Instantly all was
commotion. A large party of warriors sprang into the boat, and compelled
their white prisoners to pull at the oars. The three boats, at a short 
distance from each other, drifted rapidly down the stream, until they came
opposite the point where the savages were concealed beneath the shelter of
the willows.
   The Indians then forcing the rowers to their utmost efforts, pushed out
rapidly in pursuit, and very speedily opened a heavy fire upon their victims.
The boats returned the fire, and a warm contest ensued, as the contending
parties floated rapidly side by side, down the swift current of the stream.
The Indian warriors, though they had but one boat, greatly outnumbered the
white men. 
   The hindermost boat of the three was for a time in great danger. It had
but one pair of oars, was heavily laden, and had only three or four men on
board. The Indians made for that boat, and swept the deck with an incessant
fire from their rifles. The men at the oars in this boat strained every nerve
in the endeavor to overtake their companions who were in the advance, while
Captain Marshall, who was in command, stood firmly at the steering oar, with
a shower of bullets whistling around him.
   The Indians, in their eagerness to overtake the whites, left the swift
central current, and endeavored to cut across the river, from point to point, 
hoping by shortening the distance to gain the advantage. They thus lost the 
force of the current, and found themselves rapidly dropping astern. The 
practiced rowers in the white man's boat pushed on with renewed zeal, while
the second boat waited for them. As soon as they came in contact the crew
leaped on board the larger and better manned barge, and they abandoned their
own, with its horses, goods, and its contents to the enemy.
   The two crews, thus united, were enabled to shoot ahead with increased
rapidity, so that they soon overtook the leading boat, into which they also
leaped, surrendering another richly freighted craft to the foe. This boat, 
in which all were now assembled, was the largest and strongest of all. It had
six pair of oars, and being so strongly manned, was soon beyond the reach of
the bullets of the savages. Fortunately the Indians, accustomed only to the
paddle, did not know how to row. The white men were skilled in the use of the
oars. The captive whites, who were forced into the chase, while apparently
doing their best, were careful never to pull together, and did everything in
their power to favor the escape of their friends. The Indian, also, who
endeavored in steer, was not a skilled helmsman.
   Though the chase continued for an hour, the Indians then became satisfied
that they could not overtake the white men. Abandoning the pursuit, they 
turned their attention to the two boats which had thus been deserted. They
were both drawn to the shore, and to their unbounded delight they discovered
that the prize which had fallen into their hands was rich beyond their most
sanguine expectations. There were several fine horses on board these capacious
barges, and a large supply of sugar, flour, chocolate and other inestimable
treasures.
   Another keg of whisky was found, which discovery was greeted with more
exuberant applause than was any other of the acquisitions. These Indian 
warriors ever carried their home with them. Wherever they chanced to be was
their home. They resolved to regale themselves with another magnificent 
feast. The sublime and gigantic forest, with no underbrush, carpeted with
green sward, and bordered on the south by the wide-flowing river, presented
a lawn for such a festival as no park which the hand of opulence had reared
could rival. The sun shone in beautifully upon them from the south. The trees
and the rising hills beyond sheltered them from the cold March winds. With
their hatchets they soon constructed several wigwams, which rose in graceful
beauty beneath the canopy of foliage which was even then beginning to clothe
the forest. The warriors, in their gay attire of plumes and fringes and 
gorgeously colored robes, as they flitted about among the trees, added to
the enchantment of the scene.
   Fire, bright illumination, seems to be ever and inseparably the companion
of festivity. As the shades of evening darkened around them, one of the
grandest of bonfires which ever graced a savage carousal was built. A large
kettle was filled with chocolate and sugar, the Indians seeming to understand
perfectly the art of preparing the rich beverage. Somehow they learned that
young Johnston understood the art of cookery. He was ordered to make some
flour cakes, and bake them in the fire. A deer skin was handed him as a tray
on which to knead the flour. As this skin had been used for some time as a
saddle, it was not in a condition to add to the appetite of the white lookers
on.
   Johnston made some dumplings, sweetening them with sugar, and boiled them
in the chocolate. The Indians, in devouring such unimagined delicacies, gave
utterance to the most unbounded satisfaction. They praised the cook in their 
most eulogist strains, and declared that he should ever henceforth serve 
them in that capacity. As with the white men, the wine comes after the feast,
so with these Indian revelers the whisky came, after they had gorged themselves
with their unaccustomed food.
   The beverage, so precious yet so fatal to them, as to all the rest of 
mankind, had been carefully guarded. As usual, in preparation for a disgraceful
drunken bout, a select band was appointed to keep sober, and to watch over
the inebriates when frenzied with the fire-water. With what was intended as
true hospitality, their white prisoners were invited to share in their carouse.
Johnston and Skyles declined the invitation. But Flinn, a backwoodsman of
generous inpulses, but of semi-barbaric habits, eagerly joined the revelers.
He drank as deeply as any, and soon, in the frenzy of intoxication, forgot
all his calamities and lost all self-control.
   He fell into a quarrel with a drunken Indian, and, being a man of wonderful
muscular strength, gave his antagonist an unmerciful beating. Several of the
tribe to which that Indian belonged rushed upon him with fury; but the others
interposed, with peals of laughter, saying the Flinn had exhibited genuine
pluck, that it was a fair fight, and that he should have fair play.
   As Johnston and Skyles refused to join the revelers, it was feared that
they might attempt to escape during the scene of tumult and confusion which
would ensue. They were therefore bound. But as there was danger that they
might be assailed by some of the Indians, in their drunken fury, and killed, 
they were removed to a distance and laid down beside some trees.
   While in this helpless condition, unable in the slightest degree to defend
themselves, they saw with terror a burly savage reeling towards them, with 
his drawn knife in his hand, and uttering drunken curses. The wretch, when
within a few paces of them, stopped, eyed them savagely, and harangued them
madly for a minute, in language which they could not understand. Having 
worked himself up to a state of insane fury, he uttered a hideous yell, 
and springing upon Skyles, seized him by the hair and endeavored to scalp him.
He was so intoxicated that he worked very clumsily, though he cut a severe
gash in Skyles' head. Before he had accomplished his purpose, the guard
appointed for the general protection ran up at their utmost speed, and seizing
him by the shoulders hurled him to the distance of several yards. The escape
of poor, wounded, suffering Skyles was very extraordinary, and it was some
time before he could recover from the agitation of the scene.
   The next morning the Indians separated. The party to which Flinn belonged
remained at the river, hoping to intercept more boats. Johnston's party 
directed their steps in a northely direction toward their distant homes on 
the banks of the Maumee. Among the prizes which they found in the boat 
abandoned by Captain Marshall there was a cow. Johnston was required to lead
her by a halter. As she was unaccustomed to this mode of travel, she was
exceedingly refractory. We are told that, "when he took one side of the tree,
she regularly chose the other. Whenever he attempted to lead her, she planted
her feet firmly before her, and refused to move a step. When he strove to
drive her, she ran off into the bushes, dragging him after her, to the no
small injury of his person and dress. The Indians were in a roar of laughter
throughout the whole day, and appeared highly to enjoy his perplexity." (Western
Adventures, by John A. McClung.)
   After the feast he cruelly bound Johnston that he might not escape during
the night. As he drew the cord tightly around the wrist, causing great pain, 
Johnston ventured to complain. The merciless fellow affected to fall into a
great passion. Uttering a revolting oath, which he had learned from the lips
of vulgar, swearing white men, he drew the tightly twisted cord with all the
strength of his brawny muscles, burying it in the tender flesh of his victim.
The anguish was most acute. During the whole night Johnston remained thus
fearfully tortured, moaning in almost unendurable pain.
   In the morning Mess-ha-wa came. He found his prisoner in a burning fever, 
with his hands dreadfully swollen. He was very indignant, immediately cut
the cords, and assailed, in language of severest rebuke, the wretch who had
wantonly inflicted the torture. The march was resumed. Mess-ha-wa watched
over his captive with the utmost tenderness. He could not have treated a 
brother more kindly. On the other hand, the savage fiend to whom Skyles had
been entrusted, seemed to delight in making him miserable. Notwithstanding
his inflamed wound, he piled upon his back a heavy burden of baggage, and
also compelled him to carry his rifle. Thus his wound was kept continually
irritated, and prevented from healing. He continually assailed him with curses, 
often with blows, and nearly starved him.
   The Indians were east of the Scioto River. They soon reached the stream, 
which it was necessary to cross. It could not be forded, as it was swollen
by the spring rains. It was but a partial protection, after all, which was
the kind hearted Mess-ha-wa could afford his captive. It was necessary to 
build a raft. Johnston was compelled to work like a slave. A large log was to 
be carried for this purpose several hundred yards. Two Indians took the light
end. The heavy butt was given to Johnston alone. With convulsive strength he 
placed it upon his shoulder. As he tottered along it was crushing him. Sinking
beneath the load, he should to those at the other end, "take care," and 
dropped his burden. They did not understand the warning, and were both violently
knocked down, and rendered, for a moment, insensible. Then, seizing their
tomahawks, they rushed, with cursed upon their lips, towards Johnston, and
would instantly have killed him had not the others interposed.
   These savages had a singular sense of justice. They reviled the two Indians
who had placed upon the shoulder of their captive twice as heavy a burden as
they could carry themselves. They laughed uproariously at their merited 
discomfiture, and would not allow them to lay any hand of violence upon the
victim of their fury.
   They all crossed the river on the raft. The Indians, deeming themselves
now entirely secure from pursuit, began to journey much more leisurely. 
Johnston was quite impatient to reach the villages on the Maumee. He hoped to
find there some benevolent trader, French or English, who would ransom him
and set him at liberty. Johnston gives the following account of a game of
cards which they were accustomed to play with the most intense enjoyment.
The game was called "Nosey".
   The Indians took an ordinary pack of cards, such as they obtained from the
traders. The pack was equally divided between the two players. The game
consisted in each one endeavoring, by some process not explained, to get all
the cards into his own possession. The winner had the right to ten fillips
at his adversary's nose. This the loser was to meet in perfect gravity.
Should the slightest smile curl his lip, he was to receive ten additional
fillips, and so on for every smile.
   At this game the childish Indians would play all day long. They seemed 
never to be weary of it. A group of bystanders usually looked on, as much
entertained as were the players. Shouts of laughter rose from all lips when
the penalty was exacted.
   The Indians were very capricious. Sometimes they were good natured, and
seemed peculiarly amiable and smiling. Again they would seem sulky, morose, 
and cruel in the extreme. Upon one occasion, Johnston asked an aged Shawnee
chief how far it was to their village. The chief replied with great good
nature. Taking a stick, he drew quick accurately upon the sand a diagram of
their route. He pointed out the situation of the Ohio River and of the Scioto, 
of the various Indian villages, and waived his hand for every day which would
be necessarily occupied on the journey.
   Johnston then inquired how many inhabitants their village contained. The 
placidity of the chief at once disappeared. He was thrown into a great rage.
His eyes flashed fire.
   "Once," said he, "we were a great, great nation. We had many warriors. The
Long Knives came, and they have killed nearly all of us. There are but few
left. But so long as there is a single Shawnee alive, we will fight, fight, 
fight. When there is no Shawnee then there is no fight."
   It so chanced that they passed through a forest which a surveying party
had explored. The indications of their encroachments were evident by ax-marks
on a tree. The Indians halter, examined the trees for some moments in silence, 
and then they unitedly set up a maddened yell. They gave vent to their rage, 
and added to its intensity by smiting the tree with their hatchets, and by 
cursing their prisoners with such menacing gestures that they supposed their 
doom was sealed. It seemed taht such anger could never be appeased.
   Resuming silently their journey, they advanced but a little distance when
they came to a creek of deep, dark water, which they had to pass on a slippery
log. The weather was bitterly cold. A severe frost during the night had 
glazed with ice the log which had been barked. The Indians passed in safety.
Johnston's inexperienced foot slipped, and he was soused over head and ears
in the cold flood. The Indians, who had just been apparently almost bursting
with rage, raised shouts of good natured laughter. Their anger was instantly
all dispelled.
    It was one of their favorite amusements, when good natured, to compel 
their captives to dance in English fashion, keeping time to their own music.
Again, indulging in more savage enjoyment, they would build a large fire and
force their captives to leap through the flames with such rapidity as not to
be seriously burned.
   The slow and painful journey through the wilderness, which we are now 
describing, occupied several weeks. Thus far Skyles and Johnston had been
kept together. They were now separated. One party with Skyles took a westerly
course, and directed their steps toward the valley of the Great Miami. The other
party turned north, seeking the Sandusky. 
   A negro slave had escaped from Kentucky, and had taken refuge among the
Wyandots. They had received him kindly and adopted him into the tribe. A
Wyandot Indian, who had become a very shrewd trader, had taken the negro into
his service as an assistant. He found the negro's knowledge and intelligence
to be of great value to him. The Indian was in the habit of purchasing, at
Detroit, whisky, powder, blankets and other such articles as would be in
demand, packing them upon horses and selling them in the Indian villages for
furs and hides, often making a thousand per cent on his sales.
   This man, with his negro attendant, casually encountered, in one of the
trails of the forest, the party journeying with Johnston towards the Sandusky.
The trader produced his rum, and immediately a brisk traffic ensued; the 
Indians rapidly disposing of the articles which they had obtained from the
boats. Johnston saw his admirable boots, for which he had paid eight dollars
in Virginia but a few weeks before, exchanged for a pint of rum. Other articles
were sold at the same rate.
   The Indians, as usual on such occasions, laid in an ample supply of whisky, 
and made their deliberate preparations for a night's carouse. Johnston, for
his own personal safety, and also to prevent his escape, was entrusted to the
care of two sober Indians. They bound him securely with a cord, the two ends
of which they passed under their own bodies, as they laid themselves down to
sleep in the open air, one on each side of their prisoner. He could not move
without giving them warning.
   In the night it began to rain. The falling flood woke Johnston. The Indians
regarded it no more than would a wolf or a buffalo. Johnston, unable to 
extricate himself, was endeavoring to submit to his lot in patience, when the
kind-hearted negro, with benevolence characteristic of his race, came to him
and courteously invited him to take shelter beneath his tent, which stood near
by.
   Johnston was beginning to explain to his friend that he was so fettered 
that he could not extricate himself without the consent of his guards, when
they, roused by the incident, and supposed that an escape was intended, 
sprang to their feet, grappled their captive with convulsive violence, and
simultaneously gave that terrific yell which was called the alarm whoop. The
cry seemed to be instantly repeated by every Indian in the encampment. The 
whole band, nearly all in a frenzy of drunkenness, rushed towards Johnston, 
and he gave himself up for lost. The poor negro was pallid with terror. The
savages, however, proved more considerate than could reasonably have been
expected of them. They were doubtless conducting Johnston to their village, 
in anticipation of a grand revel in burning him at the stake. To kill him in
a moment of anger would spoil their sport.
   Several of the Indians seized Johnston and dragged him violently a few 
paces into the woods. They then questioned him with the shrewness of a cross-
examining lawyer respecting his interview with the negro - what the negro 
said and what he said. He replied by simply and clearly telling the whole
truth. They then took the terrified negro aside, and with their gleaming
tomahawks brandished before his face, assured him that Johnston had confessed
all, and that they would scalp him on the spot if he did not tell the whole
truth. His story agreed exactly with that which Johnston had told. As it was
not possible that he could know what Johnston had said, these logical barbarians
inferred that their story must be true, and that no plot for escape had been
concerted.
   The Indians were completely sobered by the alarm, and as it was raining
violently, they allowed Johnston to take shelter in the comfortable wigwam
which the negro had reared for himself. Johnston was in the vigor of youth
and health, and being much exhausted he soon fell very soundly asleep - 
sleeping like a log, as is often said. But he was soon tormented by a terrible
nightmare. He dreamed that he was drowning in the creek into which he had that 
morning fallen, and that he was suffering all the horrors of strangulation.
At length he awoke. He found that a burly Indian had entered the wigwam, 
seated himself upon his breast as if he had been a log, and was quietly 
smoking his pipe. Johnston threw the Indian off. The savage did not resent
it; but taking another seat, with great gravity resumed smoking his pipe.
   The next morning the warriors, in continuation of their revel, had a great
war dance. They painted themselves hideously, dressed themselves in their
most gorgeous military display, and endeavored to fan the flame of their 
passions into fury, as they recited the wrongs which they had received from 
white men. A stake was planted in the ground and painted in alternate stripes
of black and red. The dancers circled around it, chanting in angry tones
their accusations and denunciations.
   "The pale faces," they sang, "have robbed us of our lands; they have
slaughtered our warriors; they have burned our villages; they have cut up and
trampled down our corn; they have insulted our women; they have frightened
the game from our fields; they have driven our wives and children into the 
forest to starve."
   More and more enraged the warriors became, as the song and the dance went
on. At length, Chick-a-tom-mo, to whom we have before alluded as the chief
of the band who had robbed Johnston of his warm surtont and gaudy vest, 
maddened with rum and the excitement of the carouse, with eyes flashing fire
like those of a maniac, broke from the dancers, and rushing to the spot where
Johnston sat calmly contemplating the scene, struck him a violent blow with
his clenched fist. Then, seeing the two white children near him, who were 
prisoners, he snatched up a tomahawk, and swinging it through the air, plunged
like a maddened bull upon them. The little creatures, terrified, fled, uttering
piercing screams. The drunken savage soon overtook the girl, and was just
about to bury his tomahawk in her brain when Mess-ha-wa, with the fleetness
of a deer, overtook him, seized the uplifted arm, and hurled the would-be
murderer several paces back. The noble Indian caught the shrieking child in
his arms, and then ran back to catch and protect the boy. The little fellow, 
terrorstricken, ran so fast, often doubling in his flight, that it was some
time before he could be caught. Mess-ha-wa took them both in his arms, and 
spoke to them so kindly as to soothe their fears, and though he addressed
them only in the Indian language, they instinctively understood his meaning, 
and clung to him for protection.
   Chick-a-tom-mo, probably conscious how greatly he was in the wrong, silently
retired, without any attempt to resent the violent interference of Mess-ha-wa.
   The rum was not yet all gone, and the revelry was to continue until the
last drop had disappeared. The Indians never thought of laying up any for
future use. While the disgusting drunken bout continued, a Mingo chief, who
was out on a hunting excursion, joined the party. Nothing loth, he accepted
the cordial invitation to join in the drinking. Drunkenness sometimes creates
rage, sometimes maudlin good nature. The Mingo chief took advantage of a moment
when all seemed to him to be in a particularly loving mood, to ask a special
favor that they would give their captive, Johnston, to him.
   He had lately killed a Wyandot warrior; his widow was inconsolable; she 
had no one to bring game to her lodge; she insisted that the Mingo chief
should either provide her with another husband, or, in accordance with an
ancient custom, should lay down his own life. He said that the squaw was old, 
toothless, bent with rheumatism, and a terrible scold. He was too poor to 
hire any one to marry her; he could not think of marrying her himself. He
urged, therefore, that they should give him their captive, who being young
and handsome, would be gladly accepted by the squaw.
   The Mingo chief knew the fate of burning at the stake, for which Johnston
was reserved. He supposed that Johnston might be aware of it all. He therefore
thought that he would gladly avail himself of the opportunity of saving his
life by marrying into the tribe.
   The intoxicated Indians, in their excessive good nature, agreed to this.
Johnston, who had many fears respecting his approaching fate, made no objection
to the arrangement. He thought the plan greatly increased his chances of 
final escape.  All the Indians gathered around him with congratulations, 
shaking him heartily by the hand, and assuring him that a fine Wyandot squaw
was waiting to throw herself into his arms.
   As soon as the Shawanese became sober, they regretted their liberality, 
and began to reproach one another for the senseless transaction. They halted, 
waiting for the Mingo chief to overtake them. By noon the next day he made
his appearance. Clamorously, they demanded the return of their prisoner. He
demurred. A scene of violent altercation ensued, accompanied with angry 
gestures and many oaths - for the Indians had learned of the white men how 
to swear.
   At length Mess-ha-wa silently mounted a horse, and ledd another by a halter.
He then approached the spot where Johnston stood, and ordered him to leap 
upon the spare horse. The captive, bewildered, not knowing what was best, 
and having confidence in his friend, immediately obeyed. The whip was applied
to both steeds, and with clattering hoofs they rushed along the trail, and
soon disappeared in the distance. Thus the affair was settled.